Cleaning out gods inbox (or unedited mental fornication) at the Dead Letter Office

Relieved that all the problems perceived are nothing more than deceived reasoning
pens, guns, and swords at our backs pushing onward
casting couch cattle call, otherwise known as the fall of man
casting glances over our shoulder at youth and frolic
dearly departed semi retarded kin of post card luxuries
yesteryear dead end riot police
the motherland ways no longer keeping us grounded in the unexplainable
magic no longer mystery, fictionalized fact, a price for everything
paging extinction to isle five, clean up our sprawl
strip mall myth ponders unemployment meandering dystopia
On a smoke beak behind all points known
whistling a march of madness something like this
an industry based on blood, empty husk fuckers
we will sell you the cure when you are sick enough
marketing militia camps for kiddies
hooked on happiness automatic on disposal repeat
offenders thirty day trial
turn off your instinct to survive hyped up on hormones habit rail
I can smell it happening…
the hearts breaking open
we will ask ourselves in the future when this is all over and explained
like children’s dreams
everyone will agree it was wrong and we will blame a single body instead of the truth
being eaten away by cancer maintained by the whole.
turn off the self preservation, see how far that gets us
a biological clock confused by flickering images of everything that stimulates
the pink bits that we have to be of so unaware of
and in this bit we raise out hand and clap
….and clap
Apes did what we could but now it’s up to the bears
next in god’s encyclopedia, god is alphabetical
thank you and bow, drifting off to sleep
safe still rocking to alpha, holding ourselves and remembering when it all was ok
back before it got so small… so small we couldn’t see it anymore
slipping from grasp, the simple directions on how to maintain this cat-flap contraption
simulated reality so close, so clean, frustrated by the inability to catch up
so far lost tangled in a web of endlessly interconnected consentience
psychic vampires, what an underused term
vibration insisted sound
conjunction of containment
fractured dermal apparatus
that chill on the back of the neck
it is back again
always questioning
shut up
We think we are safe here alone in our kingdoms
inches away from other people’s mating habits
knocking precious items of dusty shelves
trinkets of once and when
times made better with calluses and time
trying to keep track of lost time
forgetting that time is lost this time
tripping over stale bread crumbs that have spoiled because
even the birds have moved on from this fairy tale bullshit.
That funny boy grew up onto a funny little man
pull his strings then carelessly
thrown in a corner and forgets with the dust
a veil or plaque of time mounted for all to see
held accountable for the lack of action
muscle memory fades brittle and weak
Gray matter slacks, forgetting to swallow
It never gets easy watching people die
right before your eyes
especially when the fight
they don’t all fight.
I guess that’s what comes to my mind when people say if it was someone’s time or not.
did they put up a fight?
on the other hand life is unexplainable to absorb
maybe one day we will get it right and we might be able to explain one tenth of one layer
of life the sensation… Zombies get it.
at this late in the game we still grunt
all this and we still grunt as our primary mode of communication
bundled with English 0.6 that is bundled with 26 letters
it really seems so small, and we still wonder
unraveling the universe and discovering we are
a creature of patterns and nothing more
governed and housed in system that mimic our internal structure
and organism that as molded that around him to benefit its species
perpetual fornication pleasure center overload
A new day is here folks
and there is a lot to do.
signing off

…now serving #2

(unedited trash really)


(June 19, 2009)

1 thought on “Cleaning out gods inbox (or unedited mental fornication) at the Dead Letter Office

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